


Who Takes Good Care of Me

by Anonymous



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Ending, Breakfast in Bed, Comfort, Declarations Of Love, Domestic, Families of Choice, Friendship, Harry Hart Lives, M/M, Protective Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4045912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin keeps everyone together, even when the world has shaken a bit on its axis. Good thing Harry's on his way home for a cuddle. </p>
<p>Post-film, missing scene/alternative ending, focussing on Merlin caring for everyone during the comedown from V-day and Harry's return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Takes Good Care of Me

Merlin took the Kingsman jet home in silence — they dropped Princess Tilde at the Swedish embassy, and despite the somewhat amorous farewell between Tilde and Eggsy, managed to get them all back quickly and safely to the mansion HQ, where they could regroup and patch each other up. 

They landed smoothly on the lawn — no point in putting the plane away when they’d need it soon, and when they were all so damn tired — and all three of them blinked a bit, breathing in the safe old air of England and the fresh-grass smell where the plane had squashed some of the lawn under its wheels. Arthur would be livid…except that Arthur was dead. 

“Med bay,” said Merlin, in a tone that he knew brooked no argument. “I’m going to contact the other knights. You may wish to contact people whilst we walk, if you’re still worried about them.” 

He made the call to bring everyone in once their areas were secure — a challenge, in this post-Valentine world. Percival was in America, where apparently he’d managed to stop several trigger-happy generals from ending the world, and he was still consulting with the government about _precisely_ where he’d stuffed the missile launch keys. 

At least they were in HQ, and Merlin could secure it if the remaining men could start to bring the rest of the organisation back on line. He listened, dispassionate, to the phone calls Roxy and Eggsy made — Eggsy to his Mum, Roxy to Percival once Perc had got off the phone to Merlin, both of them swearing up and down that they were okay, that they’d be home soon. 

They didn’t turn the television on once they got to the med bay, which was properly a wing of the building despite its nomenclature. The prospect of what they might see was too disgusting. 

“Shirt off,” he told Eggsy, who was sitting on one of the triage beds. “Let me see those bruises.” 

He checked both of his young agents over, keeping his touch brisk and professional, motivating them with praise — “move your arm, there’s a good boy; now, Roxy, let me take your blood pressure, listen to your heart, those g-forces were significant and you did so well to make the jump.” Eventually, he cleared them of any significant damage, gave Eggsy a cautionary booster dose of prophylactics against STIs (Merlin has known a number of royals, and he doesn’t trust them), and let them talk out the stress of the mission. 

“I ain’t never killed no-one before,” said Eggsy; it was obvious that both he and Roxy were crashing from the adrenaline high. Eggsy’s eyes were suspiciously shiny, and Roxy got up from her bed, padded to his side, and enfolded him in her arms quietly. Merlin nodded as Roxy’s shoulders hitched, and then both of his clever, beautiful, outstanding young agents cried out their tension and horror. Merlin waited, made some tea, and then moved so he could look them in the eye. 

“You did well,” he said, making eye contact with one, then the other. Roxy tried for a weak smile. 

“But—“ Eggsy never seemed to know when to shut up. 

Merlin put a hand on his knee. “You did well, Eggsy,” he said. “Do you understand what Valentine was doing to the world? What those people agreed to?” 

“Maybe they thought they were making the best of a bad choice?” asked Eggsy. “Sometimes people gotta do shitty things to survive.” 

Oh my boy, thought Merlin, you have no idea how far back in your files I’ve read. I know every one of your shitty choices, and I hate that you had to make them, but I’m grateful that they brought you here to me today. 

“Eggsy,” said Merlin. “Perhaps we should turn on the news.” 

Ten minutes of the news was enough — shell-shocked newsreaders, CCTV footage of riots, deaths and fires and bashings and everything under the sun. Merlin found himself holding Roxy, ruffling her hair, although whether it was for her comfort or his, he couldn’t say. Eggsy just sat there, swearing softly under his breath. 

“Enough,” said Merlin, after the headlines cycled back around another time. “Shower, and then sleep. You’ve earned it.” 

They didn’t argue. All three of them went to the shower block; Merlin gave both his charges a tracksuit and t-shirt, and some fresh underwear, a towel. 

“You’re the actual best,” said Eggsy, cracking his jaw. “I smell like—“ 

“No-one wants to know what you smell like,” said Merlin, shoving the bundle into his hands and grabbing his own gear, shutting the cubicle door behind himself. Roxy’s shower turned on first, and Eggsy was apparently singing to himself, and Merlin leaned against the wall, letting the hot spray wash over his tired back. 

He tried very hard not to think about Harry.

He and Roxy both got out of the shower before Eggsy — as it transpired, Eggsy’s battered body had taken the warmth and safety of the Kingsman mansion as a cue to fall asleep under the falling water. Between them, Merlin and Roxy manhandled Eggsy out of the shower, got a towel around him as he stirred and complained; Roxy helped him into some underpants and tracksuit bottoms, and then together they walked him between them to one of the bedrooms. 

“Do you think he’s going to complain if I crash in here?” asked Roxy, yawning. “I don’t think I could walk another step.” 

“C’mere, Rox,” said Eggsy, lifting the covers with one arm. 

“No wandering hands,” she told him, and he chuckled. 

“Like I would ever, you’re me bruv,” he said, and Roxy rolled her eyes. Merlin smiled. He let their dogs out of the holding yard where they were kept when their owners were on-mission, and led them to the room — there were more dogs in the pen than just Merlin and Roxy’s, some of them animals whose owners would never come home. He gave all of the dogs a pat and a treat, and then made sure that JB could get up the stairs to find his master.

Merlin checked in on them later. His little ones were curled up around each other, exhaustion removing inhibitions, both dead to the world. Protectiveness rose in his chest like a hot tsunami, chasing the grief. They were asleep. They would survive. The three of them would all survive, even though so many were dead. Even though Harry was dead. Eggsy’s stupid pug was snoring down the end of the bed, Roxy’s significantly better-trained animal asleep on a cushion on the floor, and all was momentarily right with the world. 

Then he went downstairs, poured himself a glass of scotch, and finally gave himself permission to cry. 

____________

 

Merlin didn’t allow himself to wallow in misery for too long — he’d have time for that later. He’d have to organise funerals for the fallen agents — for Arthur himself. For Galahad, his Harry, who was dead an ocean away. Repatriating the body wouldn’t be easy when there were so many deaths worldwide — he’d be better off just stealing it, given that Harry wasn’t there officially anyway. 

His phone rang after he sent a speculative email to Percival about collecting Harry’s corpse. Wonderful. Just what he didn’t need — to talk to a friend right after he’d been blubbering his guts out over the death of the only man he’d ever love. 

“Hi,” said Percival. “All okay?” 

“Fine.” 

“How’s Roxy?” asked Percival. 

“Brilliant,” said Merlin. “She did well today.” 

Percival exhaled. “Good. We chose well, didn’t we?” 

“We did.” 

“What’s my orders, chief?” 

“You’ve spent too long with Americans,” said Merlin, getting up from his desk to pace unsteadily. “How much longer do you anticipate them needing you? I’d like to repatriate Harry’s body before it gets swept into a mass grave or something equally unpleasant.” There’d been a lot of talk of mass graves. Merlin wanted to see Harry one more time, wanted to see the entry and exit wound that he hadn’t been able to see on the clip. 

“Merlin,” said Percival, after a brief pause. “I have some news that I think you’re going to like, but you’re going to be furious.” 

“Right.” 

“I had help when I was dealing with NORAD.” Percival sounded only mildly repentant, as if he weren’t causing Merlin to have an actual heart attack. “Harry. Harry’s alive; I’ve got him en route to you on a military flight. He’s not told me the extent of his injuries, but he’s been fixated on getting home to HQ.” Home to you, is what Perc didn’t say, and Merlin was grateful for him being circumspect. 

“Fucking hell,” said Merlin. 

“That’s about the size of it.” 

“When’s he due in?” 

“Probably not too long from now.” 

“Fucking hell.” 

“Are you going to kill either of us?” 

“Haven’t decided yet.” 

“I’m gonna have to go,” said Percival, with a sigh. “Look after the young ones, right?” 

“Always,” said Merlin, still stunned. 

He was still stunned four hours later when a car pulled up the ridiculously long drive, but it didn’t stop him from striding out to meet it. A very familiar form got out, shutting the door behind him, his wry cheshire grin mirroring Merlin’s gleeful expression. 

“Harry,” Merlin said, breathless. 

“Merlin.” 

Harry was in his arms in three steps, and Merlin could have hit him, but he didn’t — instead, he met the kiss that Harry was offering him, delighted to do so. 

“You smug fuck,” said Merlin, kissing him again. “Have I told you I love you?” 

“I could stand to hear it again,” said Harry, because he was, as Merlin had identified, a smug fuck. “Your tech saved my life.” 

“I thought you were dead.” 

“I’m sorry,” said Harry. “Things escalated very quickly once I woke up. Did you know that Percival stuck the detonation keys—“ 

“Harry,” said Merlin, expectantly. 

“Oh,” said Harry, lightly. “Oh, Merlin, of course I love you. Of course. I’ll come home to you as long as I’m able.” 

Something unknotted inside him; of course he knew that Harry would come home, but the thought that Harry’d died was still too raw to be easily soothed. 

“Thank you,” said Merlin — manners, manners. 

“It’s been a long day,” Harry said, Merlin brushing his palm over Harry’s cheek as Harry’s hands went to his waist. 

“Tell me about it,” said Merlin, bringing their lips together again. 

“How are Eggsy and Roxy?” 

“Sleeping. They came down off the adrenaline not long after we returned.” He kept tracing Harry’s features with his left hand, barely able to believe that Harry, his Harry, was here. Not exactly undamaged; he had a black eye, with darker bruising where the bullet had hit the glasses, his knuckles were split when Merlin brought Harry’s hand to his mouth to kiss his fingers, and there was blood soaked into his shirt where Valentine’s ill-fated bullet had continued on its trajectory, slowed and shifted by the impact to Harry’s glasses, and torn a shallow strip into the flesh at the side of Harry’s head, clipping off the top of his ear. It looked painful, but Harry hadn’t done much more than use a field stasis dressing on it. 

“Are they hurt?” 

“No. They’re all right,” said Merlin, and Harry sighed, leaning so that their foreheads touched, closing his eyes. 

“Darling,” said Harry, and Merlin focussed and refocussed, realising that there were tears tracing fine paths from Harry’s closed eyes. “I’m so glad to be home.” 

It was calming to lead Harry off into the medical bay, and to take care of him personally, Merlin’s touches lingering and soft, far more intimate than he’d been with Roxy and Eggsy — to gently remove the field dressing, to clean the blood away and seal the wound. Harry would have to grow his hair longer, or have an implant to replace the missing cartilage, but that wasn’t a concern for now. Merlin undressed him, rubbed healing ointment onto the bruises; Harry kept stealing kisses, because he was Harry, and Merlin softly explained all that happened in Valentine’s bunker, and back here at Kingsman. 

Harry exhaled sharply when Merlin explained about Arthur, and Eggsy. 

“He’s a good lad,” Merlin said. “He was devastated by your death. We’ll have to break it to him gently that you’re alive.” He considered how that might happen, and came up blank. “I think he’d die of happiness if you told him how well he’d done.” 

“I can do that,” said Harry, catching Merlin’s hand. “Marvellous Merlin. Wonderful, marvellous darling Merlin.” 

“Unwin, not me, you tit.” Merlin couldn’t help but feel warm and proud under Harry’s regard, nonetheless. 

“I’m serious.” Harry’s skin was a little cold under Merlin’s fingers, so he wrapped a blanket around the man. “Perhaps — perhaps we should leave them a video message before retiring for the evening. I’m uncertain as to when I’ll wake, and you’re dead on your feet.” 

“I’m fine,” said Merlin. 

“You’re not,” said Harry. “But your brain hasn’t caught up to your body yet. Get me a computer, I’ll record something.” 

“Once you’ve had a shower. That dressing is washable.” 

“Come with me?” 

“Of course,” said Merlin, even though he’d already had one, because he ached all over, and his hands were trembling, and he couldn’t imagine letting Harry Hart out of his sight for even a second. 

________

Merlin couldn’t say no to Harry — he got Harry’s computer, and they sat up in bed together to record a message for Roxy and Eggsy, and then another for the rest of the council — Harry was alive, report in all, we need a new Arthur and probably most of a new round table. 

Merlin wasn’t really sure when he fell asleep, but he woke up to the arrival of Eggsy in the room, bouncing onto the bed, chipper and grinning and oh my, this was a compromising position. Eggsy and Roxy had clearly fallen asleep together for comfort, but there was no real way to explain Merlin cuddled up to Harry’s bare chest. He sat up, and Harry flashed him a grin. They’d had a room in HQ together since the late 1990s — sometimes, after a mission, you couldn’t or didn’t want to go home — however, the rest of the organisation knew well enough to leave Harry and Merlin to their own devices. Clearly, Eggsy Unwin was not that subtle. 

“Can’t believe you’re alive!” And then Eggsy cuddled in to Harry, clambering onto the bed. “I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“These times may yet surprise us all,” said Harry, holding him near. 

“You’re not still mad at me or nothing?” 

“I’m not still mad at you. You did an outstanding job; Merlin’s brought me up to speed,” said Harry, and Eggsy beamed, settling himself properly at Harry’s side. 

“I fought that woman with the legs, Harry, you’d’ve loved it.” 

“And then he buggered Princess Tilde of Sweden,” said Roxy, from the bedroom door. “Didn’t you, _bruv_?” 

“We was both into it; she’s invited me to the palace. Got her number and everything.” 

“Charming,” said Harry. 

“I’m fucking Eliza Dolittle, I am,” said Eggsy, as Roxy wheeled a small cart into the room. “And we made you breakfast in bed after we saw your video, because fuck, Harry, you’re alive.” 

“Thank you,” said Harry, as Merlin said, “Thanks,” wondering how they’d got so lucky with these latest recruits. 

“So where do we go from here?” asked Roxy, once Eggsy had enthusiastically served up breakfast for all of them, once their two newest knights were settled cross-legged on the end of the bed with bacon and eggs and even a fried tomato and fresh bread.

“We have our fucking breakfast,” said Eggsy, “and then we go save the world.” 

Merlin couldn’t help it. He laughed. “That’s right, Eggsy,” he replied. “The remaining agents are gathering as we speak. We’re got a long day ahead of us; a new Arthur to find, a shattered kingdom to rebuild.” 

“We’ve got our Arthur right here,” said Eggsy, through a mouthful of bacon. 

“Swallow, then speak.” Harry’s reprimand was spoilt by his indulgent tone. 

“He’s right,” said Roxy. “Everyone’s going to vote for you, Harry.” 

“What if Merlin were the best for the job?” asked Harry. “He’s the one who got you two out there, and brought you home safely. He’s the one who found me. He’s the one who…” 

“Eat your breakfast, Harry,” said Merlin. “You know the person who gets the job of Arthur actually has to _want_ it, and I’m happy where I am.” 

“Are you, darling?” asked Harry, guilelessly.

Merlin finished his toast, swirling it around the plate to get the last of the tomato and bacon grease, and looked at Harry, leaning back against the headboard, black eye and dressed wound and all, Eggsy practically sitting on him in his eagerness, Roxy sipping her tea at Merlin’s feet, giving him a sweet smile to let him know she hadn’t missed Harry calling him _darling_. JB whined until Eggsy picked him up and put him on the bed — it was Sunday morning, and for the first time in Merlin’s memory, it actually felt like a proper Sunday morning. 

And, because Kingsman agents didn’t get to have Sunday mornings, he was going to have to spoil it. 

“I am very happy where I am,” said Merlin. “Now up, all of you; you’re done with breakfast and you’re to be washed and ready to go to London in half an hour. We’ve got a world of troubles to fix.” 

“Yes Merlin,” chorused Roxy and Eggsy together, scrambling up, dogs skittering after them, and Harry laughed and laughed, until Merlin kissed him to shut him up.


End file.
